“Where are you?”

“Uh…”

He’d called here.

He cut me off, “Never mind. Stay put. I’m coming to you.”

“Why? I mean, what happened?”

“They’re going after you. Have you not been watching the news?”

“No, I avoid the news. You know why.”

“Well, if you have a television nearby, turn it on. You don’t look like your old self, and thank goodness. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Wait by the back for me.”

Hanging up, I saw the television mounted in the corner of Paul’s office. “Can you turn that on for me?”

“You okay?”

I nodded.

I’d have to leave work, but I wanted to see what was going on first. Big boulders of lead lined the bottom of my stomach. They weren’t moving, just getting heavier and heavier. I knew what I was going to see, but when Paul turned on the television, I hadn’t been prepared.

I was looking back at myself, as Jordan Emory, not Jo Keen. The girl on the screen had long black hair. It was straight, no curl like what I wore now, and my cheekbones were sunk in. My face now was more filled out, but the old me still had a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones, and her eyes—I sucked in my breath. Thank God I had kept my brown contacts the entire time at the university. If anything would give me away, it would’ve been my old eyes.

When I saw my old reflection, my hand flattened against my stomach. I couldn’t make this go away. It had happened. Snark predicted it. They were going after me.

Paul murmured, “Gorgeous.”

“What?” I jumped, forgetting that he was there. My hand pressed even tighter. This wasn’t happening.

He lifted his remote to the television. “I always felt bad for her during the trial back then, but those eyes, though.”

“Eyes for the soul,” Edmund had whispered so many times to me.

I heard him once more. He was there again. His rank hot breath coated my face. I could feel him.

“Jo?”

“What?” My heart was trying to jump out of my chest.

Paul was frowning at me. “You’re damn near shaking like a leaf. What’s with you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “And who was that guy? He said it was urgent that he got ahold of you. You in trouble or something?”

Paul didn’t know.

He didn’t recognize me either.

Until that moment, I didn’t know that there were different layers of relief. I was feeling seven different shades of them at that moment. “Um.” I grabbed my arm, and he was right. It was trembling against my body. “I don’t feel good.”

“You’re never sick, and you’ve been sick twice in the same month.” He looked at me from head to toe, lingering on my middle section. The corner of his mouth twitched up, then back down. He was fighting from grinning. “Are you going to need maternity leave in the future?”

“No!” My hand was pressing against my stomach. I ripped it away now and wiped at some sweat on my forehead. “I don’t know. I’m not pregnant, I know that, but I don’t feel good. Maybe I have a stomach bug that won’t go away.”

“You sure you’re not pregnant? I need to know if you are. You have to apply ahead of time for maternity leave.”

“I’m not pregnant.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez.” He wheeled his chair backward and held his hands in the air. “I’m just saying, Jake Monroe’s been coming to visit you on your breaks a whole lot lately. It’s okay if you are. I won’t look at you any differently.”

“Stop talking.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. I was still sweating, and my boss wasn’t making it better. “I’m leaving work. I’m sick. I’m not pregnant, though. Just sick. That’s all.”

He nodded. “Got it.”

And I was out the door when he called after me, “But when you decide you are pregnant, let me know as soon as possible. I need a heads-up for maternity leave—that is, if you’re still going to work during school.”

“Shut up!” I yelled over my shoulder.

My bag.

I needed it before going to the back door. Snark was probably there already. Bruce had my bag in the air, waiting for me, as I swept into the bar. I ducked, pulling one of the straps over my body, and he only smirked at me.

I rolled my eyes. “Not you, too.”

He kept quiet. Smart of him.

Word had traveled fast. A couple of the cooks asked about my due date, and I flipped them all the middle finger, too. Henry was coming from the back section after seating some new customers in the private room.

He bypassed me, right before I reached the back door, and he gave me the thumbs-up. “I approve, too, my nemesis. And you’re right. I won’t get promoted when you go on maternity leave.”

Violence is bad. I tried telling myself that, and then—screw it.

His back was to me, but I stuck my foot out and hit it against his ankle.

Henry stumbled and almost went down. He caught himself, grabbing ahold of the wall, but he shot me a glare. “That was mature.”

I was out the door, and it slammed shut behind me. I was grinning when Snark pulled up and waved from inside.

“Get in. We have to talk.”

Then, I remembered. My old face was plastered all over the news now.

Oh, boy.

Snark didn’t say much once I got inside.

When he didn’t take me to my apartment or to the diner, I asked, “Where are we going?”

“To see your boyfriend.”

I groaned. “Jake is not my boyfriend, and we’re not pregn—”

“Kian Maston.” He leveled me with a frown. “And I hope you’re not pregnant because you already have a nightmare on your hands. A kid would make it ten times worse.”

“Good.” Not good, I meant. “And I’m not. I’m not pregnant, that is.”

“I wasn’t saying you were.”

“I know. The guys back there—” I shut up. Snark didn’t give a damn about my work issues. “Did you say we’re going to see Kian?”

“Yep, and don’t even think about lying to me. I know you’ve seen him a few times, and you’ve been in contact over the phone.”

“It wasn’t like that, and he’s gone. It doesn’t matter anyway.”